


Gestalt

by UnknowableGeometry



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Gen, Psychoanalysis, sane!will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknowableGeometry/pseuds/UnknowableGeometry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are."</p><p>-The Physiology of Taste, Brillat-Savarin</p><p>Alone in his cell, a coldly sane Will Graham seeks to understand Hannibal's design. Post-Savoureux coping of sorts, in which Will begins to fight back. Hannigram if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gestalt

**Author's Note:**

> Gestalt - the essence or shape of an entity's complete form.

**Gestalt**

 

>   
> _Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are._
> 
> _-_ The Physiology of Taste, _Brillat-Savarin_

  


Will Graham’s return to sanity began with a dreamless night of sleep. It was not immediate—he counted two instances of strange, feverish nightmares before he woke dry-skinned and calm to find that the morning guards were already at their posts. To celebrate, he paced his cell until he felt nearly breathless, and then he pressed his forehead against the sharp cold of the metal bars that held him in as though he were some rabid animal.

For the first time in a very long time, he felt rooted in reality. His body was his own, and blessedly, his mind was his own. He filled his lungs with air and felt his heart speed to accommodate the increase in oxygen. Seeking his own pulse in the small dip beneath the joint of his thumb, he counted until the intervals between his numbers lengthened again. And then, he allowed himself a smile. Had there been an audience to his small performance, they would have thought him all the more insane. But this, for him, was a triumph. He was in control once more.

With his skin against the ice of the cell bars, Will finally brought himself to assess his current condition. At the rate news traveled nowadays, the entire country no doubt saw him as a killer. Worse, he no longer had the support of Jack Crawford or the FBI, which complicated the matter in countless new ways. Jack, with his own personal war to fight against the Chesapeake Ripper, would be all the more difficult to convince. And with good reason, Will knew. The evidence was a tidal wave against him, courtesy of a man who proved to have a control of the situation akin to God’s.

 _Hannibal._ The doctor’s features came to focus within Will’s mind—fine-boned, almost delicate, and altogether something not quite human. Though whether they were more or less than human, he was still not entirely sure. In the time he had attended the thinly disguised therapy sessions, he learned nothing at all about the man who sat across from him, dressed in elegant suits and an equally well-crafted mask of gentle concern. Looking back, Will realized how utterly perfect Dr. Lecter’s performance was, and how stupid he was not to recognize it. In all the chaos, the true threat had drifted calmly through: undisturbed, uncorrupted, _untouched._

Hindsight had a perfection all its own, he knew. But the frustration was still present, would always be present. Worse was the fact that Hannibal was a murky entity of half-truths, allowing others to see exactly what he wanted them to see, when and how he wished it to be seen. Will thought of the missing organs in the victims, of the ear in his sink, of the dinner parties… Of Abigail. It became a fight to quell his rising nausea ( _Now is not the time, Will)_ and he won only barely.

In the end, every misleading detail had been crafted so finely that he couldn’t help but wonder if Doctor Lecter himself ever doubted his own true nature.

 

 

On his fourth day of imprisonment, Will received a visit from Alana.

“Will.” Her voice echoed slightly in the hall. “You look…better.” There was relief in her tone, in the way her mouth curved into the smallest of smiles.

“I feel better,” he said, bringing himself in two short strides to stand before the bars that separated them. She allowed him to meet her eyes, and the moment lingered even when she shifted into professional Doctor Bloom.

“They scheduled your court date. Jack requested that I tell you so you could prepare yourself.” This was met with a derisive sniff.

“I doubt he’s all that concerned with whether or not I ‘prepare myself.’ I have a feeling this is going to end the same way regardless of my level of readiness.”

Alana hesitated, as if organizing her words so she could convey them in the least damaging way possible. Will found that he was rather hurt by this, but he forced it away with an effort that played across the planes of his unshaven face. “Please continue,” he offered finally.

“It’s this upcoming Monday, three days from now. Eight o’clock sharp. Jack…is a lot more torn up about this than you might think.” Will raised his eyebrows at the sudden subject change but otherwise remained silent. “He didn’t want it to be this way, you know. None of us did. But the evidence-“

“I know about the evidence.” He instantly regretted interrupting her, but her expression remained open. _Please continue._ “If he didn’t want it to be this way, maybe he would have been more open to the idea that _I’m being framed_.”

“Will, you know about the evidence and you know he can’t do that. Not with so much at risk,” she returned quietly.

“Are you trying to convince yourself of that, Doctor Bloom?” he asked with all the bluntness of a rusty knife. He then took her silence to mean that maybe she was.

“What I believe about Jack won’t change much about what I am able to do for you now, at this moment. I’ll see you later, Will.” She turned to leave, her tone and body language fully showing her intention for the conversation to be over. Then, unexpectedly, she stopped. “Your dogs are doing well. They’re all behaving themselves, but I think it’s a sad sort of compliance.”

He let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. “Nah, they’re nice to whoever feeds them.”

 

 

 _Whoever feeds them._ Alana Bloom left the building at a quick clip, daring to be hopeful. Maybe a killer sneaking in to plant evidence in Will Graham’s house was not so outlandish a possibility after all…

 

 

Psychopathy was too simple an explanation.

 

Will Graham sat on the floor of his cell, one hand supporting his chin. Cold sank through the thin fabric of his prison jumpsuit, grounding him in reality.

 

The true Chesapeake Ripper ( _Why was it so difficult to think of Hannibal directly?)_ did not have the feel of a psychopath. He thought of Gideon, and the man’s smooth charm—a thin layer over a growing madness. The former surgeon had the air of someone who could act out human emotions according to societal expectations. These expressions were textbook, however. Remorse, exactly when remorse was acceptable. Acted so well that it was all the more possible to recognize the inhumanity beneath.

Hannibal was not a psychopath. Otherwise Will would have seen it sooner. He realized part of it had been a willingness to believe the doctor, who possessed sincerity and therefore a promise of friendship…

He shook his head. ( _Focus)_ On many occasions, Doctor Lecter displayed true emotions. It was impossible to act imperfection, and therefore he had seemed perfectly human. If the man truly was an actor of that caliber, then perhaps he really was dealing with the Devil here.

Will sent wry smile into the empty hall before him. Barring the supernatural, he had reason to believe that Hannibal possessed a motive. A motive that was buried so far in the past that it seemed nonexistent, and was consequently impossible for the FBI to trace.

What gave a man reason to kill and eat human beings? He pictured himself in Hannibal’s place, singling out victims that appeared particularly healthy…

No, it wasn’t as simple as that, either.

 _He’s honoring every part of them._ His own words rose in the darkness like a ghost. This was beyond any sort of revenge or barbarian nature. It was something else entirely.

This was filling an emptiness.

 

 

Drawn from the depths of sleep, Will slowly became aware of a rhythmic tapping, which his brain eventually registered as the purposeful approach of footsteps to his cell. He sat up, taking his sweet time. Somehow, before the visitor even stopped, Will knew which face he would glimpse through the bars.

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was soft, intimate. More appropriate perhaps for a planned meeting between two friends at a coffee shop, where the only agenda was to catch up on each other while they could, for a moment, let the world spin on without them. For a split second, he wanted to believe this fallacy. He wanted to give it life so that it became his reality.

But Will knew the mad parade of life would never leave without them. Here, in this cell, he was very much swept up in it. Now he needed to avoid being trampled. “Is this how it’s going to be now? Our little greetings, pretending like there’s nothing wrong here?” He remained sitting on the cot. It gave him an anchor. The doctor ignored his words entirely.

“I’ve been informed that your fever has receded,” Hannibal said. He stood very close to the bars of the cell. Close enough for Will to reach out, to strangle him…

“No thanks to you, Doctor Lecter,” he answered with what he hoped was an equally casual tone. Then he made the mistake of meeting the man’s eyes, which appeared black and fathomless in the murky light of the hallway. He knew in that moment that Hannibal was reading every emotion that played behind his own eyes, and so he decided to drop the act. He stood, moving until he was mere inches from his visitor.

“What did you hope to gain from this?” He lifted his hands, indicating the barrier between them.

“What do you think?” Hannibal asked in return. He moved only slightly, and Will watched shadows play across the sharp planes of his face.

“Ah, so this is another one of our sessions. You ask me questions so you can tell me I’m crazy. Well, I don’t have an answer to that one, Doctor. All I see is a psychopath taking the easy way out.” This had the desired effect. He had to watch for it but it was there, in the subtlest of movements of the man’s expression—disappointment. Shattering disappointment, betrayed only by a slight lowering of the eyes and slackening of the jaw.

“I had hoped,” Hannibal began slowly, “that you would understand.”

“Maybe you’ve broken my empathy,” Will shot back.

“To suggest that such a thing is possible seems rather childish, Will.” The inflection on his name was that of a father attempting to reason with his brat of a child. But Will knew better. Hannibal wasn’t prepared for the turn this meeting had taken.

“It’s childish for me to be upset? Maybe. But I don’t appreciate when people get inside my head. Especially people who constantly reassure me that I can _trust them.”_

“I recall that you chose to trust me.”

“Whatever the reason, I can assure you that it won’t happen again. Trusting you has gotten me nothing more than a jail cell and a court date.”

“You could just as easily turn me over to the FBI. It would take a simple search, and you would have the proof you needed to convince them of your innocence.” Hannibal was prodding him now, seeking, Will assumed, the empathetic side he thought he was familiar with.

“But that’s _too easy_ , isn’t it. You’d be gone before I knew it. Even if they knew your identity, what sort of victory would I gain?”

“You see this as a game?”

“You and I both know that it is. I’ll find my own way out of this, Doctor Lecter.”

“Your intention is to watch and wait.” An observation, not a question. The man was playing the psychiatrist again.

Will gave him a cold smile. “I want to see what you’re going to do.”

The corners of Hannibal’s mouth turned, but Will could not tell if the change could be attributed to disdain or amusement. He chose to chalk it up as a small victory, dedicated to the rebirth of his sanity.

 

 

The guards wonder what transpired between the prisoner and his visitor. Ever since the doctor departed, Will Graham has been pacing his confined space, muttering to himself.

“You think he’s hallucinating or something?” Jerry asks his companion in a hissed whisper. He cranes his head in an attempt to catch another glimpse of the incarcerated madman.

“That or he’s rehearsing a speech,” his fellow guard remarks dryly.

 

 

_I watch the life slide out of them. They fight until the very end to remain on Earth, but in time their last breath always sounds into the air, heralding the finish._

_I kill them with an almost-tenderness—those I would rather not have killed. But their deaths are necessary. I could not protect them. I could not protect_ her _._

_Death is a gift. I do not simply let them rot. By consuming them I am allowing them to bring life. They are now part of a larger scale, the elegant dance of life. Individuals die so the whole may continue forward. It is life’s perpetual motion machine._

_This does not make it any less painful. The hole they fill is only temporary, and then the energy they provide is gone. It is easier with those who deserve death—the ones who inhibit the growth of life with their unpleasant behavior, their rudeness. Then it is a triumph, filled with the distinct taste of sweet irony._

_There have been several instances, however, where it was difficult to even stomach my own nature._

_Abigail reminded me of_ her _. The memory still remains, at the root of my existence. Both were lambs, corrupted by the touch of life. I continue to tell myself that I imparted upon them a gift._

_Even the most pure are victims to traces of sin, which eventually envelope them and pull them under. I free them from this progression._

_This is my design._

 

**Author's Note:**

> One of the things I love about NBC's Hannibal is the dialogue and more importantly, the characters' expressions and body language behind that dialogue to further convey what is being said. This is my first work for the fandom, but I hope I was able to show the different characters according to how they are portrayed in the show. Thanks for reading!


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